


The Perils of Scotch

by LostGirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Coming Out, Drinking, First Time, Get Together, Humor, M/M, embarrassing stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-02
Updated: 2006-10-02
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirl/pseuds/LostGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles and Xander have a talk.  It doesn't go quite the way Xander expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of Scotch

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Perils of Scotch  
> Author: Lostgirl  
> Pairing: Giles/Xander  
> Rating: R (FRM)  
> Summary: Giles and Xander have a talk.  
> Spoilers: Set just after 'A New Man'  
> Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
> 
> Written for [](http://romani-inks.livejournal.com/profile)[**romani_inks**](http://romani-inks.livejournal.com/) and the Giles round at [](http://maleslashminis.livejournal.com/profile)[**maleslashminis**](http://maleslashminis.livejournal.com/) (masterlist [here](http://community.livejournal.com/maleslashminis/9186.html)). She wanted Giles with Xander and mention of Ripper, mention of Ethan, and single malt Scotch. Big, huge thanks to [](http://mireille719.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mireille719.livejournal.com/)**mireille719** for the very wonderful beta magic! Any remaining mistakes are all my own. And away we go . . .

The wall really didn't need as much work as he put into it.  Xander knew Giles wouldn't notice, though; he hadn't all the other times.  Giles seemed generally clueless when it came to repairing walls.  Xander kinda liked that, though he never said it out loud.  It meant there was something he could do, he knew about, that Giles didn't.  That was nice, since Giles knew about everything else, and Xander always felt clueless on those subjects.

Once he couldn't pretend he was working any more, Xander put his tools away, glancing sideways at Giles.  Giles was sitting on the couch, mumbling to himself as he researched a prophecy he was sure wouldn't be important for another two years.

"Well, I'm done here.  Is there anything else?"  The last bit sounded hopeful to his ears, and Xander cringed inside, which of course made his mouth take off without him.  "I mean, it's okay if you don't.  I was just wondering, because I've got time to do other things, if you need other things.  And I don't mind.  I mean, I like fixing things and it's not like I've got anything else to do today, so . . ." Xander let himself trail off when Giles' eyebrows had nearly reached his hair line.  That was usually a good sign that if he didn't stop Giles was going to stare at him.  Not just stare, but get that expression that said he was wondering how Xander managed to have so many dumb things to say crammed in his head.

Not that Giles had ever asked, but that's what Xander always thought that look was saying.  Right now, Giles' face was only getting to, 'does he even know what he's saying now, or is his brain just connecting words and tossing them out?'

"So . . . do you?"

Giles blinked and for a moment there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.  Xander always noticed that smile.  It was tiny, hardly there at all, but Xander hadn't ever seen Giles smile that way at anybody else.  He'd only started seeing it since they'd begun spending time together, since the girls had abandoned them for college.

"Do I what?"  Giles looked back down at his book and then sighed, closing it and taking off his glasses to rub at his eyes.  He looked tired and worn around the edges, but Xander guessed that being turned into a Fyarl would probably do that to you.

"Have anything else you need me to do?"

"I don't believe so," Giles said, looking around the apartment as if he would spot a hole in the wall he'd forgotten about.  Then he turned back to Xander.  "And aren't you supposed to be meeting Anya tonight?"

Xander opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and then snapped it shut and shook his head.  "Nah.  Not tonight."  Turning back to his toolbox, Xander piled away his stuff, working not to sigh out loud.  With nothing to keep him here, Xander was resigned to another lonely night spent lying on the couch in his boxers watching the kind of movie that was boring even with a ton of explosions.

"Xander, what's wrong?"  The question itself surprised Xander, Giles' tone even more so.  He sounded . . . weary.  Xander blinked and looked up to find Giles studying him intently, his glasses dangling from his fingers.

"With me?" Xander asked, and then shook his head.  "Nothing's wrong with me.  I'm fine.  Good, even."

Giles raised his eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.  He didn't ask again, but he didn't stop looking Xander square in the eye, either.  Xander deflated, shrugging.  "Anya and I are no more, split, over.  We are an ex-couple." 

"Oh," Giles said behind him.  Xander didn't look at him, guessing he'd see the sympathy in Giles' eyes, and that he couldn't take right now.  "I'm sorry to hear that."

For a moment the only sounds in the apartment were Xander packing away the last of his tools.  The air seemed filled with pressure.  Part of it was the silence.  It was heavy and awkward; Xander wanted to fill it, but he knew what would come out if he opened his mouth.  Well, knew in a vague sense, anyway.  He was never entirely sure, but it probably wouldn't be good.  Best to just keep his mouth shut.

Which, of course, meant that he turned to Giles and did just the opposite.  "She didn't dump me."  For some reason, he needed that known.  The rest of it . . . Well, the rest of it would come out at some point, some point far, far in the future, after he was dead.

Giles put his glasses down on top of his book and then turned to Xander.  "I see," he said, which Xander thought was kinda funny, given the glasses thing.  "Er, would you like to talk about it?"

"No," Xander said, probably a little too quickly, since Giles' eyes widened.  "Sorry.  Just, no."

"No reason to be sorry."  A speculative light had come into Giles' eyes now.  He was studying Xander like he did his books, and Xander had to head that thought off at the pass before it traveled places that just weren't open to traffic.

"So, what are you doing tonight?  More research?  Catching up on sleep?"  Xander realized it sounded like he was calling Giles pathetic and added, "Or do you secretly sneak off to LA after we've all cleared out and party till dawn?"

Giles snorted, but there was that smile again.  Xander picked up his toolbox, wondering if it was obvious that he was stalling, that he didn't want to leave.

"Oh, yes." Giles said in the driest possible tone.  "I'm an animal."  Xander laughed, and Giles smiled once again, picking up his glasses and putting them back on.  "If neither of us has anything to do tonight, why don't I make us both something to eat?  It's the least I can do to repay you."  Giles motioned to the wall and the door that was once again hanging on its hinges.

"Oh.  Okay, sure." Xander said, putting his toolbox down out of the way.  What he thought was, _Score!_

To Xander, cooking meant opening the package and poking the right buttons.  It obviously meant something else to Giles.  Xander stood in the doorway, watching as Giles moved around the small space with easy efficiency.  Giles had a certain flip to his wrist when he poured things, and he bit his lip when he chopped ingredients.  Every now and then he'd look up, see Xander watching him, and give a slightly confused smile.  Xander hadn't really expected to find watching someone cook so sexy.

 _Sexy.  Giles.  Same thought._ warned the part of his brain that had been his censor for a while now.  Of course, now that he'd actually told Anya he was gay . . . did he really need it any more?  _Probably._

They talked, too.  Not about anything, really.  About the due-in-two-years prophecy, about the proper way to hang a door, about Willow's borrowing of books and how annoying Spike was as a 'houseguest.'  Xander didn't ask why Giles looked as if he hadn't slept in the two days since becoming human again, and Giles didn't ask what had happened with Anya.  One ex-Watcher plus one guy born and raised in Sunnydale equaled two guys who were really good at avoiding things.

Then Xander put his foot, his ankle, and part of his calf in his mouth.  They were talking about the prophecy.  They'd need a spell to stop it and Giles was saying how it was difficult to find the ingredients for it, since they needed a piece of skin from the demons involved.  Giles' description got technical and Xander's mind drifted, but stayed in the same general area.  Spells always seemed to need something like that.  He'd needed something of Cordy's for that dumb love spell, and Willow said . . . Xander felt his forehead wrinkled up.

"So, how did Ethan manage to turn you into a Fyarl?  I mean, Willow said that kind of spell would need something of yours, for a focus or something, like the skin in that prophecy."

Giles went still in the middle of reaching for the salt.  The pause was short, but there, and Xander was pretty sure he'd blown it, blown the easiness.  It was almost impossible to get something like that back.  Avoiding things was a delicate balance.  Once you stopped avoiding one thing, the rest had a way of clubbing you over the head and dragging you back to their cave.

"He had a focus," was all Giles said, but his voice was tight now.  "Dinner's ready."

Xander let it drop, but he couldn't help but wonder.  As he and Giles took their plates to the table, all he could think of was what kinds of things Ethan could have used.  Giles hadn't told them much at all.  Willow hadn't been clear on that part.  She'd said hair, fingernails . . . and then she'd blushed and said 'other stuff.'  He hadn't thought a lot about it at the time, but now he was wondering what kind of 'other stuff' would bring out blushy Willow.  And how would Ethan have gotten hair or fingernails without Giles noticing?

"This is really good, thanks," Xander said, nervous now that he'd managed to screw things up.  Even if they both went back to avoiding, there was tension where there hadn't been earlier, and it was all his fault.

"It's nothing complex, but thank you, and you're welcome.  It's the least I could do."  Giles actually seemed a little flustered by the thanks.

"It looked pretty complex," Xander joked.  "Besides, it's a very short list of people who have cooked for me.  My mom, Willow's mom, Willow bakes sometimes.  Anya cooked something for me, but I didn't have the heart to tell her it tasted like paste.  And, yeah, before you ask, I was a paste-eater."

Giles gave him an amused look and shook his head.  "I'm honored to take a place in history among so many luminaries," Giles replied, a wry twist to his lips.  Xander couldn't take his eyes off of them for a moment; then the twist softened, and Xander looked up to see that Giles had just caught him staring.

 _Crap!  Danger Will Robinson.  Danger._   Xander looked at his food, opening his mouth and counting on his brain to provide something distracting, even if it was gibberish.

"Yeah, well my mom's not much of a cook.  She kinda tries, but it's all mostly burnt, and Willow's mom is okay, but she's not around all that much.  Willow's dad's better.  He was on my list, right?  He should have been.  He made brisket for Willow and Jesse and me once."

"Xander?"  The sound of Giles' voice brought Xander's rambling to an abrupt halt.  He looked up slowly.  Giles had finished his meal and now leaned back, his eyes intent on Xander's face.  Xander had been trying to ignore that look, both because he had some idea of what Giles must be thinking and because . . . Well, Giles with a puzzle was a sight to see, mainly because of that look.  As if he could focus in on it totally, and everything else in the world slipped away.

"Yeah?"

"You seem . . . Are you all right?"  There was a hint of worry to the question.

"I'm fine.  Good.  Great."  Giles raised his eyebrow at that and Xander revised.  "Okay, not great.  The pizza place fired me, I had to dump my girlfriend, and my parents are slumlords, but I'm fine, at least.  Yeah, fine's good."

"You _had_ to dump Anya?"  Of course Giles would have to latch onto that one.  Why couldn't he have picked the 'slumlords' one?  Xander could have gone on for a long time about that topic.

"Um, yeah?"  Xander knew he probably looked like a deer caught in headlights.  He knew he probably looked that way because it was exactly how he felt.  You can see the big truck speeding right at you, but you just can't make yourself move out of the way.

"If you didn't want to . . . dump her, why did you?"  Giles' expression had gone from 'interesting puzzle' to 'huh?' in the space of a few seconds.  New record.

Xander took a deep breath, let it out, and gave in.  He sucked at this.  If he couldn't even avoid telling it all to Giles, how was he ever going to keep it from spewing out the moment he saw Willow?

"'Cause I'm gay," Xander mumbled, bracing himself as he looked up at Giles.

Giles didn't look horrified--not that Xander had _really_ expected that.  He didn't look confused, either, though he did look a little surprised.  No flustered, though.  Xander had been hoping to at least get some flustered.  If he had to feel flustered, then the least Giles could do was join him, right?

"I see," Giles said, though the surprised look was still on his face.

"Well, maybe not gay, maybe . . . I don't know," Xander gave in with a shrug, going back to his food.  He'd actually lost his appetite.  Stop the presses.  He was nervous now.  What if Giles pushed?  Wanted to know when that had happened?  Would Xander have to admit that Anya had been the one to mention it?  And _why_ she'd mentioned it?

"If you're not . . ." Giles sighed, shaking his head.  "I'm sorry.  It's none of my business."

Xander looked up then, watching as Giles stood to take his plate into the kitchen.  That was somehow disappointing.  It wasn't that he _wanted_ to tell Giles exactly what had happened, but Giles' apparent lack of interest wasn't exactly what he wanted either.

 _Yup.  I'm dumb._   He looked up to see Giles pouring a drink from one of the bottles on the pass-through.  "What's that?" he asked, mostly to switch to any topic that didn't leave him conflicted.

"Scotch.  Twelve-year-old single malt," Giles replied without looking up.

"Is that a good thing?" Xander asked, after the silence had stretched on a moment and it was obvious Giles wasn't going to fill it with the history of Scotch.

"Yes."  Giles sounded amused, and there was that twitch of a smile again.  "Would you like some?"

Xander blinked and then considered.  If Giles was willing to forget he wasn't old enough, Xander wasn't going to remind him.  Reminding him would be like waving a sign that said, 'kid,' and that was the last thing Xander wanted.  "Er, sure."

How bad could it be?  Okay, so it could be pretty bad, but Xander was prepared for pretty bad, so that would make it less bad.  Right?  Giles brought two glasses out, and Xander nodded a thank-you when Giles set his on the table and took his seat once more.

Giles was watching him.  Xander could feel it as he finished his food.  He didn't look to see what expression Giles had on; while cataloguing them had become a hobby over the last few months, Xander was afraid of what he'd find.  Finally, Xander had worked himself up to reaching for the Scotch.  He thought he did a good job of hiding his nervousness, but he was in such a hurry to get the first taste out of the way that he ended up taking a gulp instead of a swallow.

He choked, gasping and coughing like an idiot.  Giles was at his side immediately, smacking at his back in that useless way that people did when you were choking.  Xander finally managed to stop coughing.  He looked up at Giles through the tears the choking had caused to find that Giles was smiling at him.  _Smiling_ smiling, like 'on the verge of laughter' smiling.

_I am a clown, here for your amusement._

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Xander said, surprised at how hoarse he sounded.  "Just dumb.  It's not a new thing."  There was a word for that tone of voice.  Malaise?  Morose?  Something like that.

"That can happen to anyone," Giles replied, though the extra twitch in his smile made Xander think that wasn't exactly true.  "You certainly didn't do as badly as I did when I had my first Scotch."

Xander knew a change of subject when it was offered, and he wasn't about to pass up a chance to play 'let's embarrass Giles.'  He _was_ the reigning champ, and more fodder couldn't be a bad thing.  "How bad could it have been?"

"It could have been worse.  You kept it down, after all."

"That's all I get?  I nearly choke to death and I don't even get an embarrassing story?  Come on, _Ripper_ , you have to be able to do better than that!"  Xander laughed at the expression that caused.  It was one he'd never seen before and he wasn't sure what it meant.  It looked like a cross between 'you little brat' and 'you have no idea what you're asking for.'

"Is that a challenge?"  Giles' voice was low, almost dangerous.  "And what will I get out of it, if it is?"  Xander's stomach clenched, and he took another--small--sip of Scotch, more to delay having to answer than because he wanted to.  It didn't burn as much as before, but the heat of it slid down his throat and settled in his stomach.  It was kinda nice, that feeling.  Relaxing.

"Umm . . . sure," Xander finally said.  He wasn't sure if that answer came from the Scotch, which he found himself sipping, or from some reckless part of him that wanted to hear Giles use that tone of voice again.  "Uh, I could . . . finish sorting the books by myself?  Or maybe fix that bit on the stairs?  Or--"

Giles held up a hand to stop the flood.  "Why don't we swap?  Answer for answer, story for story."

"Okay!"  Xander said before his brain caught up to him and remembered there were more than a few things he'd rather not tell Giles about.

Giles' smirk said that he already knew that, and suddenly Xander felt as if he'd been outmaneuvered.  He narrowed his eyes at Giles, but the smirk grew into a smile, and Xander found he cared less than he probably should have.  He'd already told Giles he was gay; how bad could it be?

And just as Xander realized that was exactly what he'd thought about the Scotch, Giles began telling his story.  Giles had been younger than Xander when he'd first had Scotch, sixteen.  He and a friend had sneaked into Giles' father's study and stolen some.  They'd raced back to Giles' room, convinced they'd be caught.  They were caught, but that was mostly because Giles' friend had freaked out when Giles threw up all over the bed.

Xander could almost imagine a young Giles, green in the face and wide-eyed.  He couldn't stop a snort of laughter.  It wasn't until he raised his glass that he realized it was empty.  He looked at it for a long moment, frowning.

"Your turn."  The words drew Xander's eyes up, and he smiled at Giles.

"Huh?"

"Your turn," Giles said again, leaning back a bit and giving Xander a speculative look.  "What really happened at the, what was it?  The 'Fabulous Ladies Night Club'?"

Xander went completely still.  "They told you about that?"

"Buffy did."

"BlabberBuffy," Xander commented.  He blinked at Giles, annoyed at the man for going out of focus like that.  It wasn't polite.  Then he saw that Giles' glass was empty too, and he got up to get the bottle Giles had poured their drinks from.  If he was going to do this, he was going to need for Giles to be so drunk he didn't remember any of it tomorrow.

Xander thought that probably wasn't a polite thing to do, either, but Giles _had_ started it.  Xander took his seat on the couch again and refilled Giles' glass.  "Um, okay, the Fabulous Ladies Night Club . . . well, uh, I did dishes.  Which was good.  It was fine.  The end."

Giles gave him a look that said, 'do you really believe you're getting away with that?'  This was convenient, because Giles actually said that a second later.

"Drat," Xander muttered, going to sip from his glass only to find it empty.  Hadn't he already known that?  Xander poured himself another, ignoring the raised eyebrow that Giles sent at him.  "Fine.  There was . . . There was this one night.  One of the male strippers called in sick and . . . Well, no one else could take over his spot and . . . I filled in.  Rico had to shove me out onto the stage.  And man, is baby oil hard to get off in those quantities, and those thongs are _uncomfortable_.  It was horrible.  All those women, shouting and whistling.  All hands if you got close, and, well, you had to if you wanted the tips."  Xander glanced up at Giles and found, rather than the laughter he'd expected, that Giles was looking at him kinda seriously.  And he kept licking his lips.

"Need more?" Xander said, confused when Giles swallowed hard and shook his head mutely.

"Uh, n-no, I think I've gotten the, uh, picture."

Xander felt his forehead crinkle up as he puzzled that out.  "Oh.  No, I meant the Scotch.  I don't think the stripper part gets any more embarrassing.  It's kind of a blur anyway.  Except I think Rico was hitting on me, and that's kinda embarrassing.  Right?"

Giles didn't answer, merely held out his glass and watched as Xander poured more Scotch into it.  "I suppose it's my turn again."  Giles put his glass aside without drinking any.  His hand was a little unsteady.

"All right," Xander said, trying to think up something really good.  The Scotch story was funny, but not really all that embarrassing.  He wanted to get some good dirt.  "Ethan," he finally said, nodding.  He definitely wanted to know about Ethan.

"Ethan?"  Giles laughed, really laughed, and then took a large drink of his Scotch.  "If you're going to be that vague, you're going to end up owing me more stories than you can possibly have."

Offended by the clear amusement, Xander protested.  "Hey!  I've got stories!  Lots of stories!  I was almost eaten by a giant praying mantis!  I made out with a mummy!  I helped to blow up the library!"

"Yes, yes," Giles said dismissively, though he was smiling.  "But I was there for all of that.  It's hardly the same, now is it?"

Xander grumbled, but eventually conceded.  "Okay, okay.  Tell me about how Ethan managed to turn you into a feral, uh, Fyarl.  About that focus stuff."

Giles snorted, finishing off his Scotch.  "We drank.  We taunted one another.  We came back here.  It isn't as if he broke in and stole hair from my pillow.  I was lying right there.  Why bother with a piece of someone when you've got the whole thing snoring a few feet away?"

Xander stared, his throat tight and his stomach doing a fluttery thing.  "You . . . came back here?"  He'd heard that right.  He knew he had, but he couldn't have.  Giles . . . and Ethan?  His mind decided a visual would probably help him process this new information.  It thought it would be even easier if it made the visual detailed.  Xander felt his cock twitch at the images.  He blinked them away and refocused on Giles, trying not to think about it too much.

What had they done?  _Stop that, Giles is talking._

Could he really see Ethan and Giles?  Kissing?  Touching?  _Stop that.  Giles is talking._

Had Ethan gotten to feel Giles' hands on his chest, his stomach, his-- _Stop that!  Giles is_ talking!

"Xander?"

"Huh?"  Xander was surprised that he still sounded so hoarse, though he thought it might not still be the Scotch, at least not entirely.

"I was saying that I passed out and Ethan was still here and then I woke up with horns and hooves."

"You passed out?"  Xander wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.  On the one hand, Ethan?  No.  On the other?  Giles . . . yes.  Oh, yes.  Very much yes.

"Er, eventually.  There were, other things . . ." Giles looked faintly embarrassed, and he squirmed a little in his place on the couch.  Wow.  Xander had never seen Giles really squirm before, not physically, anyway.  It was cute.

 _Cute.  Giles.  Same--_ Xander cut the thought off.

"Right.  Eventually.  Okay, that's, um . . . good.  Er, I mean, enough.  That's enough."  Now he sounded squeaky.  _What is in this stuff?_   Xander looked into his glass, unsurprised to find it empty again.  He set it on the coffee table and then pushed it a little further away.  "Right, so . . . my turn?"

"Yes," Giles said, and that smile crept back onto his face.  "Your turn.  Tell me what happened with Anya."

Xander groaned, burying his head in his hands.  "You evil, evil man," he muttered, though he wasn't sure Giles could hear him.  He lifted his face after a moment, then took a deep breath and decided there was only one thing to do.  Lie.  Not a lot, just that one thing.  Just one little lie in the middle of a big embarrassing truth.  Giles would never know.

Nodding, Xander finally started.  "Anya and I were, um, doing things, and I might have, uh, called out someone else's name."  The last bit was delivered in a rush that must have taken Giles a minute to decipher.  Then his eyebrows rose and he let out something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle before he clapped his hand over his mouth.

Xander glared, and Giles brought himself under control, looking as if he were trying to treat this with the gravity it deserved.  Satisfied, Xander continued.  "It was a guy's name."

"Someone you know?" Giles asked, and he didn't look at all as if he felt like laughing anymore.  In fact, he seemed . . . hesitant.

"Yeah.  I mean, I think Anya wouldn't have minded so much if it was, like, Brad Pitt or somebody.  She still wouldn't have been happy, but I think it would have been okay.  I mean, I still like girls, but . . . Oh, God."  At some point, he'd turned around to be better able to see Giles' face, now he buried his face in the back of the sofa.

"Then why did you tell her you were gay?" Giles seemed confused, and Xander couldn't blame him.  How could Giles understand what even Xander didn't?

"It just popped out!"  Xander lifted his head to meet Giles' eyes.  "I wouldn't have said it again.  At least, not out loud.  I was just surprised, but Anya was so mad!"

"Surprised?"  Giles' forehead was wrinkled in the way that usually meant there was an apocalypse coming and the answer to stopping it wasn't in a book.  "Why were you surprised?"

Xander turned scarlet.  He knew it.  He could feel half the blood in his body rushing up into his face.  Of course, since the other half had chosen the opposite direction, Xander was momentarily dizzy.  "Umm . . . Oh, God.  Why did I agree to this?  Okay, um, well . . . Let's just say that we were trying something different.  Something . . . um, with lube and . . . I didn't expect it to feel like that and . . ." Xander trailed off, out of words to babble, but he peeked up and thought that Giles might have worked it out.

"Oh . . . I--I see."  Giles' eyes had gone distant, and Xander experienced a moment of terror thinking that Giles might actually be seeing it.  Then Giles blushed and blinked, and his eyes were focused again.  Focused on Xander.  Focused _intently_ on Xander.

Xander swallowed, his stomach tightening, his cock hardening when Giles just kept _looking_ at him that way.  Xander swallowed, his eyes slipping down to Giles' mouth all on their own.  Giles moved closer.  Xander barely breathed.  They were close enough that their knees were touching, close enough that Xander could have reached out and touched Giles.

Giles leaned in, but that was okay, because Xander was leaning in, too.  It was slow, or at least it seemed to take forever, but then Giles' lips were almost against his.  Xander could feel Giles' breath.  Giles' hand had somehow ended up on his knee, and Xander wanted it to move--not leave, just _move_.

"Whose name did you call out?" Giles asked.  Xander blinked, trying to focus on a face that was too close for that.

"Huh?"  He was distracted by the way Giles' lips just barely brushed his when Giles spoke.

"Whose name?"

"Oh."  Xander's breathing was coming fast now, his heart slamming in his chest.  He decided not to lie.  "Yours."

Giles closed the distance between them in a rush.  Xander groaned, and Giles' tongue slipped in, playing along his own and then up against his teeth.  Xander's hands were on Giles' shoulders, pulling him forward, trying to get more.  Giles' hands slid up and down Xander's legs, moving just as Xander had been wishing they would.

The kiss quickly turned lazy and slow.  Eventually, Xander's death grip on Giles' shoulders relaxed, his hands moving down to stroke Giles' arms, his back.  The room was filled with sounds, most of them small and needy, coming from both of them.

Giles' hands moved over him with sure, firm caresses, but there was nothing demanding about it.  In fact, the longer they kissed, the more they touched, the slower it all became.  Not that Xander was complaining.  He'd almost scooted into Giles' lap, and Giles was kissing him and making those _sounds_.  Xander had never made anyone sound that way before.  He thought hearing them might be addictive.  What was there to complain about?

 _Nope.  No bad here._   Maybe, tomorrow, Xander would decide to freak out, but for just that moment, he was more than happy to be just where he was.  By the time they pulled away from one another Xander was lying against Giles, who was propped up in the corner of the sofa.  Xander let his head fall forward to Giles' chest, trying to catch his breath.  Giles' arms were around him, holding him loosely, and Giles' heart was pounding fiercely beneath his forehead.  Neither of them spoke.  For once, Xander didn't want to fill the silence.


End file.
